First Night of Summer

by Landon Parham

  Ricky sped to a jog and ran past Olivia like any teenage boy in a hurry. He sniffed as he passed, trying to catch a whiff of her sunscreen lotion. When he reached the flowerbed, he looked back and saw her spooning out slush from the cup. He quickly ducked into the bushes and hid.

  Her yellow bikini grew brighter in the shade of the palms as she came nearer. She hummed a sweet tune, some song stuck in her head, not a care in the world. Then, at precisely the right instant, a hand slipped over her mouth and an arm around her tummy before she could react.

  Ricky’s spontaneous plan succeeded, but the reality of it felt very different from how he imagined it might. Wild, perverse fantasies that previously occupied his thoughts swirled into fear as seconds on the clock ticked away. He decided to get down to business and get the hell out.

  With one hand still clasped over her mouth, pulling Olivia’s head tightly against his chest, he used his free hand to explore her body. His sweaty palm roved over her suit in a medley of rushed motions. Time went into overdrive.

  She squirmed, not sure what had just happened and no idea who had her. What was left of her blue coconut snow cone pooled on the cement. A few dribbles ran down her bare legs. She reached with both hands to the one clamped over her mouth and pulled at it. A barely audible scream escaped. It wasn’t enough to alert anyone, but one of the strange, bony fingers slid between her teeth. She seized the opportunity, bit down hard, and held it.

  Ricky’s fantasy abruptly ended as pain shot into his finger. Reflexes took over, and his hand flew away from her face. An ear-busting scream pierced the air before he could regain control. As suddenly as he had taken her, it ended. He leapt from the bushes in a mad panic and ran for his life, a throbbing, bloody finger clenched tightly in a fist.

  It had taken so long to catch his breath after running away, even after sitting on his bed at home for fifteen minutes. He remembered the palpating thump of his heart sending blood to his shaking limbs. But it had been worth it. Olivia had been worth it. From that point on, society at large—at least the young, female population—was at his disposal, food for his sick addiction, minor obsessions. He put a Band-Aid over the bloody teeth marks where Olivia broke the skin on his finger and abstained from washing his hands for a week.

  * * *

  That was so long ago, almost two decades since his shortsighted youthfulness, but the desire remained strong. He needed someone again. The computer screen at his desk glowed with life from a touch of the mouse, and the hunt began. News station websites were good places to start.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Unlike Ruidoso, Hiawatha, and Shepherdstown, he did not have to go far this time to stalk his prize. Ricky sat leisurely but aware in his van. A gentle Colorado breeze sifted through the open window and into cab. The drive to Woodland Park had taken less than two hours from his home-in-the-woods hideout.

  Once a small, alpine town outside of Colorado Springs, the neighborhoods of Woodland Park were only accessible by jeep trail. Now paved roads lead very near the peaks of granite spires. The town is picturesque, full of residents who seek serenity and an outdoor lifestyle. People who live there love it, and people who visit wish they lived there.

  The gorgeous mountain summers inspire local residents to do one thing above all else, enjoy an array of outdoor activities. Mindy Kessler and her mom were no different.

  Each day after lunch, they would pack a snack basket, walk from their house to the park, and lay for an hour on the green, outfield grass of the softball field. Mindy’s mom liked to roll up the sleeves of her T-shirt and tan while her daughter played with other kids. They had done this three days in a row now, and Ricky followed each time. Their simplistic routine obvious, he devised a plan that might work famously. But if he didn’t get lucky today, no skin came off his back. He was guilt-free until the actual second that he grabbed her.

  Once again, he watched from down the block as Karen, Mindy’s mom, strolled along the sidewalk toward the park. Mindy skipped happily beside her. When they turned the corner and disappeared, Ricky circled around to enter the park from a different street.

  Dozens of people were scattered about the recreational area. A few junior high and high school kids shot hoops on the ball courts. A handful of elementary-aged kids played on the swing sets and monkey bars. Another group kicked a soccer ball back and forth. Even with all the people, the conditions were perfect. Sounds of life and action were ideal camouflage to hide a stalker in plain sight. Besides, the noisier the atmosphere, the longer Mindy’s mother would take to realize the sound of her own daughter was missing.

  Parked in the lot next to where the walking trail connected with the parking area, Ricky stepped out of his white utility van. He wore a set of thin, navy blue coveralls with “Joe” written in block letters on a white nametag. On top, a grungy, neon orange vest, the bright ones seen on road workers or city maintenance crews, hung over the bogus uniform. A dirty, old cap and a pair of soiled leather gloves completed the disguise.

  As he strode into the park to find Mindy, he pulled a rolling trashcan behind him. The container was the same type used by professional janitors, a big, industrial gray, cylindrical tub on wheels. An extendable grabber hung from his other hand to give the appearance of a cleanup worker. Inside the container, several candy wrappers, empty soda cans, crumpled papers, and plastic bottles partly filled a black liner. It had to look authentic. Not to mention, a certain satisfaction over cleaning the environment made him feel good. He hated how people littered, filthy people who drank from disposable water bottles and discarded them after one use. It had taken him less than ten minutes to gather two fistfuls of candy wrappers from a highway median. It pissed him off how so many cared so little about the health of nature. And the irony of cleaning the earth while hunting was not lost. A smirk crossed his lips as he reached out with the grabber and disposed of another piece of loose trash.

  He found Mindy running pell-mell with a group of kids, an energetic game of freeze tag in session. He watched her play, certain to keep busy with his service duties and avoid notice. Every so often, he fidgeted with a trash receptacle, not actually doing anything to it, picked up a stray cup, and never ventured far from the public bathroom facilities. All little kids had to pee after playing. It was only a matter of time until Mindy had to go. Time passed in slow motion, but finally the words came.

  “Mom,” Mindy shouted toward Karen lying in the middle of the huge lawn. “I have to go the bathroom.”

  Karen didn’t even look. She simply raised an arm off the blanket and waved in acknowledgement. The only people in the neighborhood park were local residents. In their secluded little village, there had never been a threat of insecurity. And that was exactly why Ricky had come.

  That’s it, Momma. Don’t even look. Just keep on cookin’ in that sunshine.

  The restrooms were forty to fifty yards away, positioned at the edge of the grass, mere steps from the trailhead entrance. Ricky was closer and beat Mindy there. The ladies’ room had no door, only a cinderblock wall that doubled back to create a privacy barrier.

  He peeked his head in. “Cleaning crew.” He paused for an answer. “Anyone in here?”

  The room returned silence in answer.

  He stepped behind the bend and flattened himself against the interior wall. Five seconds later, Mindy screeched around the corner and never had time to scream before a set of arms wrapped around her. A wet cloth pressed tightly against her face stifled any cries for help. She squirmed, but to no avail. Her eyelids fell shut seconds later, and her knees buckled.

  Ricky snatched the partly filled liner out of the rolling trash container and immediately slung Mindy over the edge. She plunked to the barrel bottom, and the black liner went right back on top of her limp body. If anyone were to look inside the bin, all they would see was a bag full of garbage. The whole process took less than twenty-five seconds.

  He came out of the bathroom, wheeling the trashcan out in front as he walked. Everything
seemed just as it had been a moment ago. A basketball bounced. The pitter-patter of feet running across a drawbridge echoed. Laughter and sounds of nature filled the air. He dared a quick glance toward Karen. She had not budged.

  At the back of his inconspicuous white van, he opened the rear doors and lifted the tub inside without a hitch. Just then, another mother-and-daughter pair walked behind him and entered the park.

  As he turned to leave, the little girl tugged on her mom’s arm. “Are they here yet? Is Mindy here?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ricky made his way home with Mindy still drugged in the bottom of the trash can. The back of the van would not host the events he had in store. She was going inside his house, the guest of honor at their private party.

  The idea of sharing his real bed excited him beyond measure. Never before had he brought a lover home. But the monotony of his previous two episodes grated on his personal satisfaction. Bailey and Lindsay were had in similar fashion, submission by force, not choice. This time, he wanted to mix it up and change the pace.

  Like a good conservationist, Ricky tried not to overhunt his local area. Wary prey and suspicious eyes were not conducive to his actions. Instead, he ventured far and wide, taking victims from scattered locations, and leaving no pattern or links for the authorities to connect until now. Now he actually took the time to fess up to the abductions through letters to Josephine Snow. There was an undeniable thrill to pushing the envelope, but he also needed to be more cautious than ever. Police and citizens alike would be on the lookout for Mindy as soon as the Amber Alert hit the waves. And this time, Ricky’s whereabouts were directly inside the soon-to-be search radius.

  He steered the van around a curve and saw his plain, galvanized mailbox on the roadside up ahead. His pulse quickened as he drove down the twisting, spruce-lined driveway, and backed into the garage. Despite an undeniable relief, his cheeks flushed with heat. No matter how many times he did it, stealing a kid made him feel vulnerable, alive.

  This was it. Time for gratification had come again. He opened the back doors and hauled the trash can onto the cold, cement floor. It thumped on impact, and a groan came from inside. His hands slipped under Mindy’s armpits, pulling her up and out. Her head rested on his shoulder, like a father carrying his sleeping child.

  “It’s okay,” he reassured in a whisper and patted her back. The other hand slid under her bottom to support her weight. “I’ve got you. We’re going inside.” He patted again. “You’re okay.”

  He laid Mindy’s limp body on a couch in the surprisingly cozy—for a child abductor, murderer, and rapist—living room. On his bed in the master suite, he stripped the linens and spread a plastic tarp over the mattress, then put the sheets and comforter back on. If this turned out to be another blood bath, like Lindsay, he wanted to be prepared. He smoothed the cotton fabric with soft-skinned hands and made sure they were straight. Everything needed to look nice for the pictures. The back of the van was not conducive to elaborate photography, but here at the house, he could take his time and get as creative and imaginative as possible. This being a new way of doing things, he wanted to make sure and document it extensively.

  With the bed prepared, he brought Mindy in. His little lover looked so sweet, soft, and tantalizing. In the comfort of his own home, Ricky’s mind began to play tricks. He started to believe that she might feel the same way about him as he did her. Somebody out there cares about me.

  Giddiness fell in with hatred, twisted love, anxiety, lust, and the other quagmire of warped feelings he harbored in his hardened heart and blackened mind.

  He prepared the camera, video, and audio equipment, his mood further brightening as Mindy opened her eyes. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and her eyes squinted to filter the brightly lit room. He watched as she ran through her senses—smell, sight, and sound—to detect anything familiar.

  He sat on the bedside and leaned over her as he had with so many before. “Welcome back.” The words came out softly, genuinely.

  She was only seven, confused and unable to remember how she had gotten there. She tried to speak, but her dry throat stuck.

  “Would you like some water?”

  She nodded.

  Ricky handed her a glass of water from the nightstand. He kept his hand cupped underneath while she sipped. Intentions of violence were far from his mind. After a few swallows, she looked at him expectantly, searching for an explanation.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, baby.” He put the glass down and stroked a loose strand of hair over her delicate ear. “I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Will you trust me?”

  A willingness to cooperate from his victims was new to Ricky. Not that he hadn’t coaxed cooperation from them before, just not without threats or punishment. If he could keep Mindy operating of her own free will, fantasies he had conjured up over the years were finally within reach. Easy, Ricky. Play nice.

  He scooted her toward the headboard, sat her up, and favored her with a charming smile. “You really don’t have to be scared.” His hand gently squeezed hers, and she didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked around, trying to make sense of it all.

  “I need you to do a favor for me.” From a small, pink sack, he pulled out a size double zero lacy outfit. “It may be a tiny bit big,” he said and held it up. “But I bet you’ll look beautiful. I got it for the fun pictures we’re going to take.”

  Mindy scrutinized the outfit. While she didn’t understand that it had deeper meaning than just being pretty, she had seen similar pieces before, mostly on her parents’ bedroom floor. She was an only child. At her young age, the “birds and bees” were simply that, birds and bees. Her mom and dad could be somewhat careless with their love life and still get away with it.

  “Tell you what, gorgeous. I’ll turn around, and you can change. Okay?”

  Ricky left the lingerie on the bed and took a couple steps away. He turned his back. “Go ahead.” He waited.

  He heard her shirt slip from over her head, and then the snap button on her shorts popped loose. When Mindy slid the zipper down, the sound carried to Ricky’s ears. He gave her a minute until he could wait no longer.

  When he turned, she sat with her legs hanging over the side, head looking down at a pair of dangling feet. Her arms were wrapped around her body, chill bumps covering her skin. She looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes.

  “You … look … stunning!” He continued to dote with each step toward her. His pointer finger ran down her arm. The hand that was capable of killing so coldly felt warm to the touch.

  Mindy did not flinch; nor did she look up. She just sat there, devoid of reaction. Ricky convinced himself that her lack of enthusiasm came from nerves, not disapproval. She loves me and wants me.

  From the time he was a little boy, he had just needed someone to care, but no one did. At least not in the right way. He didn’t need more spending allowance. He didn’t need more free time, video games, or satellite channels to be a happy kid. He simply needed attention from the people who gave it to him least. He needed quality time with his busy parents.

  Ricky knew Mindy had never been involved with a man before. He made up his mind to show her how love worked. He would make her feel pretty, wanted, and special. He would do that for her, and she would love him in return.

  First, he made her pose in numerous positions on the bed. He snapped and clicked with a digital camera, each shot striving to capture the sensual nature of her body, the kind only a creep can find in a child. He instructed her on how to make seductive faces and where to put her hands, saying that was what big girls did. With a smile and kind words, Ricky squeezed every ounce of modesty from her.

  No matter what she did, though, her purity remained unmarred. She felt nothing of a sexual nature in any of it. Even his best efforts could not spoil her innocence. Children have places even the vilest of monsters cannot touch, not even in the personal porno he forced her to star in.

  A me
ssage on the camera screen stopped him. “I have to get another memory card.” Damn. “Don’t you move now. I’ll be right back.”

  He stepped from the bedroom, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Extra camera supplies were in the top drawer below the bar.

  He fumbled through the cords, disks, and flash drives and found a new memory card. He removed the full one from the camera, labeled it with a post-it note, and put it in a plastic baggie. Already, he couldn’t wait to download it and look through the pictures. The new card inserted flawlessly, and he checked the settings to make sure they were the way he liked. All set, he hurried to get back to the main event in the bedroom.

  A door from the kitchen entered the cushy living space. What he found there shattered his world of imagination and sent him back into the reality where he was a violent kidnapper and Mindy was the kid. The fantasy he had dreamed of for so long popped like a soap bubble in the sun.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mindy stood on a cushion, the black, lace teddy sagging on her tiny body. She was in the foyer off the living room with one arm stretched as high as she could reach. The safety chain at the top of the front door jingled against her fingertips. She had already unlocked the deadbolt. It took every ounce of her concentration and nerve to do it quietly and overcome her quivering hands. Just ten more seconds was all she needed to slide the chain free and open the door. She could almost hear freedom knocking on the other side of the knotted pine barrier.

  While taking pictures on the bed, she had managed to hold her tears at bay and fight the paralysis of fear. There were things her mom had told her to do if anyone ever took her.

  “If somebody grabs you, scream as loud as you can. Don’t stop screaming until you get help.” But it was too late to scream. There was no one to hear.